


I Didn't Come for a Fight But I Will Fight Till the End

by TearCatcher



Series: Not Sure I'm There Yet But I'm Certain I've Arrived [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Dom Patrick, Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Panty Kink, Sub Pete
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 18:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11190465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearCatcher/pseuds/TearCatcher
Summary: Pete's been wanting a spanking for a while. Patrick makes him earn it - but he doesn't make it easy.





	I Didn't Come for a Fight But I Will Fight Till the End

When Patrick goes into his home studio this afternoon, there’s a slender, black rectangular box, about 18 inches long, sitting on his mixing board. Wondering what Pete’s up to (because who else would leave a mystery box for him in his studio but Pete?), Patrick picks it up and lifts the lid, uttering Pete’s name like a curse when he sees what’s inside.

It’s an elegant black leather paddle. The head of it is fairly narrow - not much wider than the sturdy, cushioned handle - and there’s a red wrist strap attached to the end. For a while now, Patrick has been comfortable giving Pete the occasional sharp smack or two on the ass, whether he’s got him tied up or he’s just fucking him, but Pete has been asking for a “real” spanking a lot lately. Patrick isn’t entirely comfortable with the idea - playing around is one thing, but causing Pete actual pain is quite another, and Patrick’s not sure whether he’s got it in him, or if he’ll even know how to do it. He keeps telling Pete he needs to think about it, and Pete keeps telling him they should just try it already, but it looks like Pete has forced his hand yet again. Patrick doesn’t appreciate this. 

With a scowl that could rival one of Pete’s, Patrick puts the lid back on the box and quickly stashes it among a hoard of pedals and cords, and resolutely throws himself into what he came in there to do today.

When he finally emerges for dinner, Pete practically pounces on him, looking expectant.

“Hey, babe,” Patrick says casually, leaning in for a kiss that Pete returns distractedly. “How’d that magazine interview go?”

Normally Pete would start rambling about everything he had done during his brief separation from Patrick, giving him a complete rundown of the interview, while Patrick patiently listens and nods, inserting the occasional “Mmm-hmm” or chuckle. Instead, Pete simply says, “It went fine. How was _your_ day, Patrick?” He looks at him meaningfully.

Patrick is a far better actor than Pete. “It was great. I’ve got something for you to listen to later.” He starts rifling through the take-out menu drawer next to the fridge. “I’m in the mood for Indian, how about you?”

Pete sort of flounces over to him. “Indian is fine,” he mutters.

Pete’s twitchy and fidgety while Patrick is on the phone placing their order. As soon as he hits the “end” button, Pete looks at him and exclaims, “Aren’t you going to say anything about what I got you?”

Patrick can’t hide his smirk. It hadn’t taken Pete long to break at all. “What you got _me_? I think it’s more something you got for yourself. And I seem to remember telling you I still needed to think about it. I don’t appreciate you deciding for me.” He gives Pete a pointed look, eyebrow raised. “Not very _obedient_ of you.”

Pete immediately drops to his knees, and Patrick sucks in a sharp, startled breath. Pete stares up at him with huge brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Patrick. I just really, really want it.” He slowly slides his tongue out of his mouth to lick his lips, and Patrick is temporarily entranced by the movement.

 _Be strong_ , he tells himself. “That’s not the way you should have gone about it,” he tells Pete sternly, and he’s glad Pete’s eyes are still focused on his face.

Pete tilts his head down further so that he’s peering up at Patrick through his eyelashes. “I’m sorry, Patrick,” he says in a low voice. “Can I make it up to you?” He flicks his eyes to Patrick’s crotch, and makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat when he notices he’s already getting hard. “Please? Before the food gets here?”

Patrick backs up against the counter and undoes the top button of his jeans. “Make it good,” he instructs, but with Pete it’s quite unnecessary - he knows it’ll be good.

Pete makes his eyes impossibly wider when he looks back up. “Yes, Patrick,” he says softly, and Patrick has to hold in a moan.

By the time Pete eagerly finishes undoing Patrick’s jeans and takes out his cock, he’s already fully hard. Pete takes him deep and fast, mindful that they’re on a time limit, moaning when Patrick fists a hand into his hair. He knows exactly how lax to make his neck so that Patrick can guide him up and down the length of his cock, just as Patrick knows exactly how far down he can push Pete’s head without gagging him. 

Dirty talk comes naturally to Patrick when they’re like this, especially in the form of praise for Pete. “You suck me so good, Pete,” Patrick tells him. “You love being all pretty on your knees for me, taking my cock down your throat, don’t you, baby?”

Pete makes a strangled moan of assent, digging his fingers into Patrick’s hips.

“When I’m ready to come I want you to put your tongue out and catch it,” Patrick tells him, drawing another long moan out of Pete that vibrates around his dick. Patrick loves to come on Pete - he’ll take it over coming in his mouth any day. (Deep in his ass is a totally different story.)

Patrick quickens both the pace of his hips and the guidance of Pete’s head, and soon he’s pulling Pete’s head back far with his right hand and withdrawing his cock with his left. Pete obediently opens his mouth, sticking his wet, pink tongue flat over his lower lip, closing his eyes and moaning as soon as he gets the first taste of come. Patrick tries to aim for Pete’s mouth, and Pete swallows it all as soon as Patrick’s done. Patrick rolls his hand down his cock, squeezing out a few more drops, and Pete eagerly rushes forward to lap at it, making Patrick shudder as he tongues all of it out of his sensitive slit.

Patrick strokes Pete’s hair and forehead, and Pete closes his eyes and leans into his touch. “You are always so good,” he tells him, making Pete smile soft and smug. He helps Pete up and kisses him willingly, but when Pete starts rubbing up against him, hard and urgent, Patrick backs up. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, looking at him reproachfully.

Pete ducks his head and actually _pouts_ at him, complete with furrowed brow and lower lip stuck out. Patrick isn’t falling for it. “Food will be here soon,” he says. “After dinner, we’ll talk.”

Pete smiles again. “Okay. I’m glad I got to make you feel good.”

Patrick kisses him again. “You’re amazing.”

Pete’s his usual chatty self during dinner, filling Patrick in on his day through mouthfuls of naan bread and chicken tikka masala. When they finish, Patrick gets out his phone and pulls up the song he was working on earlier in the day. Pete beams and they discuss a couple things, with Patrick making minor adjustments right on his GarageBand app, and then Pete is in his lap, nuzzling his neck and clearly expecting to get his turn.

All the while, Patrick has been coming up with a plan, and this is the time to present it. “I’ve been thinking, Pete, and I decided you can get your spanking - “

“Really?!” Pete exclaims, sounding as if Patrick has promised him a new puppy.

Patrick narrows his eyes at him. “ _But_ ,” he says, “you have to earn it.”

Pete frowns, already not liking the sound of this. “How do I earn it?”

“No coming for a week,” Patrick proclaims with relish.

Pete looks scandalized. “A _week_?!”

“A week,” Patrick says firmly. “This isn’t a punishment, either. I just want to see how badly you want it.”

Pete huffs out an indignant little sigh. “You know how much I want it.”

Patrick knows how much Pete has said he wants it, but if he works for it, Patrick will be confident he _really_ wants it. And if Pete can’t uphold his end of the bargain, well - that just means Patrick can put off doing it for a while longer. “After one week, if you haven’t come once - and if you jerk off behind my back you know I’ll know - then we can try out your new toy.”

“ _Our_ new toy,” Pete says pointedly.

Patrick looks into Pete’s eyes and nods, letting him know they’re in this together. “Our new toy.”

Pete relaxes a moment before diving headfirst into Patrick’s neck and groaning. “Can we start tomorrow?”

Patrick chuckles. “Not a chance, babe.”

The next day, Pete’s in a good mood. A really good mood. And kind of cocky, like a guy who thinks he already got his way. Patrick needs to get this in check.

Patrick heads for their bedroom first that night, making sure he’s already in bed by the time Pete comes in. Pete is in the bathroom for a while, brushing his teeth and examining his pores and flexing his abs for the mirror (which he will deny), but by the time he emerges, Patrick has been stroking himself for quite some time, thinking about how Pete is going to look on that very bed, head down, ass up. He’s purposefully turned away from the bathroom door.

Pete gets into bed with far more noise and commotion than climbing onto a soft surface requires. “Patrick?” he semi-whispers. “Are you asleep?”

“No,” Patrick replies breathlessly, speeding up the hand on his dick.

“Are you - “ Pete leans closer, then lets out a gasp. “You _are_! That’s cheating!”

“I can come whenever I want to,” Patrick replies in a low, breathy voice, punctuating it with a moan.

Pete makes a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat, and Patrick rolls over onto his back, pushing the covers down to his knees and bucking up into his hand, letting out a low groan with each thrust. He’s moving slow and deliberate now, with exaggerated motions, and while Pete is usually the one who gets off on being watched, Patrick has to admit that he’s enjoying having an audience right now.

After not even a minute, Pete whimpers and says, “Can I help, Patrick? Do you want my mouth?”

Patrick moans at the thought but he gasps out, “That won’t be necessary.”

“God, Patrick, you are so fucking hot,” Pete says wistfully. “You move your hips like that when you fuck me...wish I could feel you filling up my ass right - “

“Pete,“ Patrick warns through gritted teeth, “if you say another word, we’ll add another day.”

Pete lets out an indignant little squeak, but he stays silent except for his heavy, jagged breathing as Patrick fucks faster into his hand, now imagining that he is in the slick, tight heat of Pete’s ass. It’s not long before Patrick is coming, moaning a little louder than necessary. He shudders exaggeratedly when he’s done.

When he opens his eyes and turns, Pete’s squirming and flushed. Patrick holds up his come-covered hand, looking at Pete questioningly, and Pete has his mouth on it in a flash, licking it clean and deep-throating it so that Patrick can feel the back of Pete’s throat at his fingertips. Pete is sucking at nothing when Patrick pulls his hand away.

“Thank you, Patrick,” Pete rasps, and Patrick chokes down a gasp. Pete’s a little squirmy as he settles down for the night, back against Patrick’s chest, but Patrick manages to get a good night’s sleep.

Pete is up long before Patrick the next morning, if the abandoned state of his side of the bed is anything to go by. When Patrick picks up his phone, there’s a text from Pete saying that he’s at the gym, along with the standard string of kissy face and heart emojis.

Patrick’s still in bed, scrolling through various blogs and news sites on his laptop, when Pete returns with coffees and a bright smile.

Patrick accepts the coffee and a kiss gratefully. “How was your workout?”

“Great!” Pete replies cheerfully. “I got in a good one.” He goes on to describe extra reps and added weight, plus some high intensity interval training that makes Patrick feel exhausted just hearing about it. Clearly Pete has found an outlet for any extra energy he may have. 

These prolonged workouts seem to carry Pete through the next couple of days. However, on Day Three of Pete’s enforced celibacy, Pete comes into the kitchen while Patrick is making himself a sandwich, straight from a swim in the pool and dripping wet all over the tile.

“Ever heard of getting a towel?” Patrick asks him pointedly, gazing at the puddle Pete is leaving on the floor.

“Didn’t realize I was so wet - sorry,” Pete says, not sorry at all. He’s wearing his smallest pair of swimtrunks today, and the wet black fabric is clinging to him, outlining the shape of his cock. He’s shirtless, of course, his toned torso completely on display, his dark nipples hard in the chill of the air conditioning. He’s fucking hot and he knows it.

Pete positions himself against the counter right next to where Patrick is making his sandwich, leaning back on his elbows and tightening his belly. He looks like he's posing for a magazine. Patrick pauses the knife in the mayonnaise jar as he lets his eyes travel up Pete’s golden, inked skin, from the v-line bracketing the batheart, all the way past his sculpted abs, up his toned chest and shoulders, and finally resting on Pete’s gorgeous smirking face. 

“May I help you?” Patrick asks coolly, raising an eyebrow at him. “Would you like a sandwich?”

“Nah, I'm good,” Pete replies, giving Patrick a knowing smile. 

Patrick turns his attention back to the assembly of his sandwich, determinedly not looking at Pete. 

“Think I'm gonna get one of those frozen fruit bars, though,” Pete says, just as Patrick has gathered up the sandwich fixings and turned to put them back in the fridge. Pete jumps in front of him and bends over to open the freezer drawer, lined up so that Patrick is getting a direct view of the way the wet fabric of his trunks clings to the round globes of his ass, accentuating them perfectly. 

“Hmm...I had raspberry yesterday...maybe I'll try the lime,” Pete muses aloud, ass still up in the air as he rummages through the box. He's wiggling it far more than necessary, and Patrick simultaneously ogles and glares at it. 

“Will you just pick one so I can put this stuff back?” Patrick snaps, and Pete snatches one from the box and quickly stands up, sliding the drawer shut. 

“Sorry, Patrick,” he says cheerfully, and even opens the refrigerator door for him. 

Patrick sits down at the kitchen island with his sandwich, and Pete sits across from him with his popsicle. _He’s so fucking predictable_ , Patrick thinks, as Pete begins slurping and licking, lavishly running his tongue all over its surface and lapping at the edges. Patrick needs to nip this shit in the bud.

“Enjoying your popsicle?” Patrick asks dryly.

“Yeah, the lime is pretty good,” Pete replies, licking at imaginary juice running down his wrist, making eye contact with Patrick the entire time.

Patrick takes a slow, measured breath. “Good,” is all he says, because he has plans for later.

Patrick sidles up behind Pete while he’s brushing his teeth that night, presses up against his back, and says quietly into his ear, “Are you in the mood to play?” Pete’s eyes widen in the mirror and he nods his head quickly, but thankfully doesn’t attempt to talk through his mouthful of toothpaste.

“Same rules apply,” Patrick says softly. “Are you sure?”

Pete spits into the sink and finds Patrick’s eyes in the mirror again, his gaze intense. “I can handle it.”

Patrick places a single kiss on Pete’s shoulder. “I know you can. But I’m warning you - I’m not gonna make it easy.” Pete sucks in a sharp breath. “Strip and come into the bedroom when you’re ready.”

“Strip?” Pete asks, confused. He knows he’s not allowed to come, so he probably figures he doesn’t need to be naked to service Patrick.

“Strip,” Patrick says firmly. Pete isn’t going to be pleasing Patrick in the way he thinks.

“Yes, Patrick,” Pete says meekly. It makes Patrick’s cock twitch.

When Pete enters the bedroom not long after, Patrick’s already sprawled in the middle of the bed, propped against the headboard with his legs spread, slowly running his fingers up the length of his hard cock, just giving it some teasing strokes. Pete is naked as he asked, and his own cock hangs heavy and full in front of him as he stands there, breathing heavily and awaiting instruction.

“Come over here and start sucking,” Patrick says, feeling a surge of arousal at his own words. Pete looks pleased as he clambers onto the bed and settles between Patrick’s legs, keeping his dark eyes on Patrick’s as he takes his cock into his mouth, maintaining eye contact until he goes so far down he can no longer hold it. Patrick lets him suck him for a few minutes, enjoying the always pleasurable sloppy wet heat of Pete’s mouth, before he reaches under the pillow and pulls out a bottle of lube. He holds it out to Pete and Pete stops, staring first at it and then Patrick with wide eyes.

“Do you know what I want you to do with this?” Patrick asks him.

“Open myself up?” Pete asks in a small voice. Patrick does enjoy watching Pete finger and work himself open, but that’s not what he has in mind tonight.

“Open _me_ up,” Patrick corrects, and Pete’s jaw drops.

“You want me to fuck you and not come?” Pete asks incredulously. “I thought it was going to be bad enough that you were going to fuck me!”

“I have faith in you,” Patrick says, “and you know I won’t last long anyway.” Part of the reason Patrick doesn’t bottom very often is the fact that it always makes him come really fast - and then he’s so incredibly sensitive afterwards that Pete has to pull out immediately. He’d probably get better at it with practice, but Pete likes being fucked so much it’s not something either of them is focused on improving. “But in case you need extra help - ” Patrick fumbles under the pillow again “ - here.” He holds up a black silicone cockring.

Pete takes in a deep breath, then accepts the cockring. “Put it on fast,” Patrick instructs. He’s not going to let Pete get away with teasing himself in an attempt to tantalize Patrick in the process.

Wordlessly Pete gets up on his knees and rolls the ring down his hard cock, hissing as it goes. It pulls the skin extra tight, making it look even darker and more flushed with blood. All of the veins stick out and the tip is shiny and wet. It looks delicious, and thinking of what that taut, heated skin will feel like in his mouth makes Patrick’s mouth water, but he needs to focus. He sits up and turns, positioning himself on his knees, bent over with his elbows propped on the pillow. “Get me ready for you.”

Pete whines softly but gets behind Patrick, running his hand greedily over the curve of his ass.

“The lube, Pete,” Patrick reminds him, to keep him focused.

Pete makes a displeased huff but locates the bottle, and Patrick breathes deeply when he hears the click of the cap. Pete moves closer, and Patrick is trying to stay relaxed, when suddenly Pete says in a desperate tone, “Patrick, can I eat you out? Please?”

Patrick stifles a groan. He would love for Pete to loosen him up with his tongue before moving on to his fingers, but when they’re playing Pete isn’t supposed to talk to Patrick unless he’s asked a direct question. Besides, Patrick is trying to put Pete in his place and show him that he’s not the one in charge here and _why the fuck didn’t Patrick think to tell him to eat him out first?_

“Finger me open, Pete,” Patrick says, in the most commanding voice he can muster, mainly succeeding in keeping breathy desperation out of it.

“Yes, Patrick,” Pete says, sounding defeated. He tested and lost.

Pete’s gentle, rubbing at the pucker of Patrick’s asshole with generously lubed fingertips until Patrick is resisting the urge to push himself onto them.

“Let’s go, Pete,” Patrick manages to say, tense with the effort of staying still. He can't allow himself to appear desperate. He's the one who has to be in control. 

The first finger slips in easily, and soon Patrick is saying, “Another one, Pete.” All the while, Pete is making little whimpering noises, and stroking soothingly down Patrick’s back and side with his free hand. Patrick appreciates how careful Pete is being - so careful that when he crosses his fingers and puts them both in together, Patrick barely feels a burn. “You’re doing really - goooood,” Patrick moans, rocking into Pete’s fingers a bit.

Pete keens low in his throat, which is fine by Patrick because he doesn’t expect total silence, as long as he’s being good and not talking. Patrick can tell how relaxed and loosened up he’s becoming as Pete slowly spreads his fingers apart. Pete may like testing his limits and being a difficult little shit sometimes, but he’s serious and purposeful when it matters.

“Fuck me,” Patrick gasps out, and Pete moans long and low, sounding pained. “Now, Pete,” Patrick says, more firmly this time. They both hiss as Pete pulls out his fingers and gets back up on his knees - Patrick at the sudden emptiness; Pete at the feel of his cock hanging heavy between his legs. He gets behind Patrick and Patrick hears the click of the lube cap again. Pete moans quietly as he slicks himself up, and Patrick startles when Pete adds more lube to his entrance.

“I’m ready, Pete,” Patrick tells him, resting his forehead on his arms in front of him and breathing deeply. He fights the urge to pull away as he feels the hard, blunt pressure of Pete’s cock against him. “Go on.” He bears down on Pete, crying out as he feels the head of his cock pop past the initial resistance. Pete freezes but Patrick pushes back toward him, allowing him to sink in deeper. “Feels good,” he manages to reassure him, but Pete does feel _huge_ , and not just because it’s been awhile - the cockring has made him swell up bigger than normal.

Pete bottoms out, and Patrick can feel how tense he is. He moves one of his hands to his own cock and pushes back against Pete again. “Move, baby,” he instructs.

Pete moves slowly and steady, not only because he’s being cautious with Patrick, but because he’s trying to hold back on coming. A cockring can only do so much. In contrast, Patrick’s hand is moving furiously as he jacks himself off, and Pete has only pumped into him about a dozen times before Patrick’s coming all over his hand, trying desperately not to be too loud so he doesn’t set Pete off with him. Pete immediately stills when he feels Patrick clenching around him, muttering, “Fuck, Patrick,” between gritted teeth, and basically allowing himself to be pushed out by Patrick’s orgasm.

Patrick only allows himself a moment to bask in the afterglow, his head collapsed on his arms, before turning around to check on Pete. Pete is sitting back on his heels, hands on his head, partially shielding his eyes and breathing deeply. His cock is red, hard and angry looking, jutting out in front of him. Patrick rushes to wipe his hand on his discarded shirt and gets on his knees beside him.

“Pete?” he says softly, petting over his hands back to his head. “You did so good, baby.”

Pete leans into his touch, relaxing his hands a bit but keeping his eyes closed. “I did?” he asks in a small voice.

“So good,” Patrick confirms, kissing his forehead. “Want me to take that off for you?”

Pete’s eyes fly open. “No,” he says quickly. “I got this far and I don’t want to screw up.”

Patrick feels a tinge of guilt as Pete gingerly pulls the cockring off. They both heave a sigh of relief when it’s finally free. After the cleanup, they cuddle under the blanket to watch TV, Pete slightly twitchy against Patrick’s side. Patrick strokes his head and arms, occasionally murmuring how proud he is of him and what a great job he’s doing, and when Pete feels mostly settled Patrick allows himself to drift off to sleep.

Unsurprisingly, Pete already at the gym when Patrick wakes up the next day. He’s quiet when he comes home, subdued. He’s not as chatty or boisterous as he usually is, and while he readily snuggles into Patrick when they settle down for the evening, he seems wary of too much physical contact. Patrick can’t help but feel like he’s won, but it’s a hollow victory. 

The next morning, Patrick wakes up alone again. “Went for a run,” reads the text Pete sent, its terse nature undoubtedly conveying how Pete is feeling. Patrick can hear the shower running, however, indicating he has already returned. Patrick feels the guilt well up in him, and reminds himself that he had merely responding to how pushy Pete has been acting about this whole thing - and that Pete only pushes to get confirmation that he’s worth all the difficulty; that Patrick loves him enough to set limits and be firm with him. Still, he can’t help but think of how defeated and _broken_ Pete looked yesterday...so maybe Pete deserves a treat.

Patrick can see Pete through the shower door, standing face first in the spray, not even moving. He didn’t hear Patrick enter the bathroom over the running water, but when Patrick opens the shower door, Pete jumps.

“You scared me!” he splutters, but his tone immediately turns wary as Patrick presses himself to his back, sliding his arms around his torso. “Patrick?” Showers in the morning together usually mean slippery bodies, slick hands and quick orgasms, the evidence of which gets washed down the drain. Pete’s cock is half hard.

“It’s okay, baby,” Patrick says gently by his ear. “I woke up thinking of how good you’ve been, taking this so well.”

“I wanna keep being good,” Pete says desperately, sucking in a deep breath as Patrick slides his hands down Pete’s stomach, stopping when they reach the neatly trimmed patch of dark curls above his cock.

“You are good, Pete,” Patrick says, slipping one hand under Pete’s balls and reaching up for a bar of soap to slick up the other. “That’s why you deserve to come.”

Pete fights to keep still. “But you told me a week,” he whines. “I want to stick to what we said.”

“And I want you to come,” Patrick says calmly, gripping Pete’s cock and relishing the way it feels slipping through his hand. “I’ll still uphold my end of the bargain. Just think of this as a bonus.”

Pete throws his head back, leaning against Patrick’s face and partially on his shoulder. “I made it this far,” he says pathetically, moving his hips in jerky rhythm with Patrick’s hand.

“And you’ve been so, so good,” Patrick says in a low voice, making Pete moan and buck more forcefully. “You earn this and your spanking. I’ve been thinking of how you’ll look bent over, with your ass all red from the paddle. You think you’ll want me to fuck you when I’m done? Fuck your cherry red ass?”

“Fuck, yes, Patrick, _please_ ,” Pete groans, coming all over the shower wall. Patrick strokes him through it, and Pete turns around and flings his arms around him, burying his face in his neck.

“Did that feel good, baby?” Patrick croons to him. “Do you feel better?”

“You didn’t think I could do it, did you?” Pete says so quietly it’s hard to hear him over the shower.

“Of course I did!” Patrick says, putting a hand under Pete’s chin and tilting his face up to look at him. “You were doing it, and you were doing such a great job I let you have this. _I_ wanted you to come.”

Relief is all over Pete’s features. “Thank you, Patrick,” he says sincerely.

“Thank you for being so good,” Patrick replies, and they kiss despite Patrick’s morning breath.

Pete is much easier to deal with for the remaining two days. He’s not trying to test and tempt Patrick, but he’s not quiet and on edge, either. He’s pretty much his normal self, albeit it in need of a little more affection and reassurance than normal, but Patrick is happy to give that to him.

When the evening finally arrives, Pete is practically vibrating with anticipation. Patrick turns up the air conditioning, gets out some extra towels, and unlocks their toybox - all things he normally does in preparation for playtime.

“I have to go get the paddle,” he tells Pete. “I want you head down, ass up on the bed when I get back.”

Pete rushes up to Patrick and kisses him forcefully. “Thank you for this,” he says, staring into his eyes with real gratitude. “For all of it - making sure I wanted it, putting me in my place, everything.”

Patrick traces Pete’s lips with his fingertip before leaning in for another kiss. “You’re welcome. And this is for both of us.”

Pete smiles a pleased smile and takes a step back, but to his credit refrains from telling Patrick to hurry up and get the paddle. Patrick nods approvingly before leaving for his studio, where the paddle is exactly where he left it.

When Patrick returns to the bedroom, he stands outside the door briefly, taking a few deep breaths and trying to psych himself up. He holds the paddle in one hand and tests it out on his other palm. It stings for sure. He’s been fantasizing a lot about paddling Pete this week, but he’s still not sure how he’s going to do once it becomes a reality. He hopes he doesn’t disappoint him. He starts to go through an internal dialogue of self doubt before he realizes he’s leaving Pete waiting in a vulnerable position, so with a final deep breath he pushes open the door, and his jaw drops when he sees what’s on the other side.

Pete is toward the end of the bed, on all fours with his head down on his arms, ass up in the air, just as requested, but his ass is covered with a tiny pair of lacy black panties, designed with a sheer panel in the middle of the back that makes the cleft in his cheeks visible. They’re cut high so that most of his ass is exposed, but not so much that they’d be considered a thong. Pete’s legs are spread far enough that Patrick can see the way his balls are squashed into the lacy material - and it looks hot as hell.

“You are such a fucking slut,” Patrick growls, and Pete moans at his words. Pete probably thought Patrick would need some extra incentive to get started with his spanking. And maybe he was right - but Patrick is damned if he’s going to let Pete get the last word in this power struggle.

He tosses the paddle on the end of the bed and goes straight for the toybox, selecting a clear, medium-sized butt plug. He sets it behind Pete so he can’t see what it is when he grabs the lube off the bedside table. He gets behind Pete and pulls the panties off to one side, pleased that they have more stretch to them than they look. He applies a generous glob of lube to Pete’s asshole, giving him a small slap with the other hand when he tries to push back into it, and applies more to the plug, but gives Pete no other prep before pushing it in.

It’s a tapered plug, and Pete moans wantonly as it goes, but he takes it easily, and Patrick pulls the panties back into place. He has to squeeze his own dick when he sees how it looks with the flared base of the plug visible through the lace-framed window of the panties.

“You think you’ll like getting spanked with your ass plugged?” Patrick asks viciously, gripping Pete by the hair and pulling his head back to force him to look at him.

Pete looks desperate already. “Yes, Patrick,” he pants.

“Did you think you’d get the last word in by surprising me, looking all pretty in these?” Patrick snaps the waistband of the panties.

“No, Patrick,” he says, wide-eyed. “I just thought you’d like them.”

Patrick studies him thoughtfully. Maybe defiance wasn’t his goal here. “I do like them,” he says finally. “But I’m still the one in charge.” He releases Pete’s hair and leans in for a kiss to let him know he’s not mad.

“I know, Patrick,” Pete says earnestly.

Patrick goes behind Pete and takes a moment to admire the sight of Pete’s plugged, panty-clad ass, before running a finger under the seam to pull the material between his cheeks, making Pete groan and try to rock into the pressure of them on the plug. “We’ll start with five, like we said,” he says. They agreed they’d try five swats at a time, checking in after each set, using the stoplight system: “green” means Pete’s fine, “yellow” means proceed with caution, and “red” means stop. (Of course Pete is allowed to say “red” at any time and Patrick will stop immediately.)

“What's your color, baby?” Patrick asks softly.

“Green,” Pete says in a confident, clear voice. “I’m ready.” He tilts his ass up. 

Patrick takes a deep breath, letting it out as the paddle slices through the air, landing on the meat of Pete’s ass. The first smack is a surprise to them both. Pete lets out a small cry and Patrick startles a bit at the sound of the paddle on skin. Patrick made a conscious effort not to hit too soft or too hard, and he thinks he did a decent job. The noise Pete made seemed to be more from surprise than pain, so Patrick keeps going, this time aiming for the other cheek. Pete lets out small grunts after each blow, and Patrick alternates sides, ending at five on the same side he started.

“Color?” he asks Pete quickly.

“Green,” Pete replies immediately. “ _Harder_.” The golden hue of his skin has barely changed.

Patrick curses softly, drawing the paddle back again. He starts on the other side, and the first hit has about the same force as his previous blows, but on the second he puts more muscle into it, and Pete rocks forward with the momentum, steadying himself on his arms and muttering, “Yeah, like that.” Patrick is actually grateful for the panties because they provide the perfect outline of where to land his blows, and it doesn’t take long before he arrives at five again. 

“Color?” he repeats.

“Green,” Pete gasps. “Don’t stop.”

This time Patrick decides to mix things up, paddling just one side of Pete’s ass, using the same heavy strokes but giving them in quick succession, feeling a deep-rooted satisfaction when he sees that Pete’s ass is turning a nice rosy color. He places his hand on it, feeling the heat radiating off of it as he asks, “Color?” once again.

“Green,” Pete says, although this time he sounds a little dreamy.

Patrick does the other side the same way, quick, steady and hard, and he can see Pete’s back heaving with the breaths he’s taking when he’s done. He strokes his heated ass again and asks, “Color?”

“Green,” Pete says, and he sounds confident about it, but Patrick is concerned. They’re twenty strokes in now. He slides the panties down, past the swell of Pete’s ass, and Pete whimpers, but it could be because his balls and cock are still stuck in the material. The shiny silicone end of the butt plug stands out against the bright red of Pete’s ass.

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” Patrick asks, tapping the paddle ever-so-lightly against the plug.

Pete groans. “Ten more? Please? All at once?”

Patrick hesitates. Pete’s ass is so red and hot already. He doesn’t think he’s even close to breaking skin, but still…

“And harder?” Pete asks, barely more than a whisper.

“Pete - “ Patrick begins.

“Green,” Pete says plaintively. “Please? Then fuck me.”

Now Patrick groans. “Okay, baby. Ten, all at once and harder. Then I’m gonna pull out that plug and fuck you through the mattress.”

“Yesssss,” Pete hisses, thrusting his ass up farther into the air, dispelling any fears Patrick has that he may not really want it. The flared end pokes out but the plug stays firmly buried in Pete’s ass. That visual is all Patrick needs to pull the paddle back, hitting Pete’s ass with a resounding _thwack!_ that echoes around the room. Pete makes a strangled sound that’s halfway between a moan and a cry, and Patrick immediately aims for the other cheek. He does eight more strokes in perfect rhythm, alternating sides and putting the same force behind each one. When he gets to his mental count of ten, he realizes Pete is making a steady, low keening sound.

“Color? Patrick asks in alarm.

“Green,” Pete says, and it sounds like a sob. “Fuck me.”

Patrick’s cock is about to explode, so he doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly shucks his pants and slicks himself up, climbing up behind Pete on the mattress. He removes the plug carefully, and Pete groans at the loss. Patrick lines up against his hole immediately, figuring Pete will be able to take his dick without any further stretching, especially since his body has gone so loose he’s practically a Pete puddle, barely propped up on his knees. Patrick wraps an arm around Pete’s waist and pulls him close to him as he slides in, Pete groaning so loud Patrick swears he can feel it reverberating through his cock. Patrick gasps at the feel of Pete’s ass radiating heat against him when bottoms out. There’s not much room to thrust with his arm around Pete’s waist, so Patrick fucks him slow and deep, pulling him against his body, the upper half of Pete’s body folded over and collapsed onto his arms on the mattress. Pete’s cock is still trapped in the panties, straining against the lace, and Patrick can feel how wet the front of them are when it rubs against his arm. Patrick stops fucking Pete - drawing out a moan of protest - so he can shift a little bit and wrap his arm in a way that presses Pete’s cock down against his belly, and he resumes the deep thrusts, going sharper this time, synchronizing steady pressure to Pete’s cock with his arm.

“You gonna come for me? You gonna come in your pretty panties?” Patrick says in a low, deep voice, and when Pete starts weakly trying to press back against him and drive him in deeper, he continues, “Come on, baby, you’ve been so good - I want you to come hard.”

Pete arches his ass and Patrick can feel him tightening around him, the lace pressing into his arm getting soaked through. That’s enough to send Patrick over the edge, pulling Pete tightly to him one last time, holding him there as he fills him up. As soon as Patrick is done coming, he loosens his shaking arm from around Pete, and Pete collapses to the mattress, Patrick’s dick slipping off as he falls.

Patrick immediately strokes Pete’s hair and peers anxiously into his face. “You okay, baby?” he asks.

Pete nods his head minutely, his eyes closed. “Fucking amazing,” he slurs.

Patrick smiles. Pete seems out of it but definitely happy. “I love you,” he tells him, leaning in for a kiss Pete weakly reciprocates. “You were so good.”

This time a ghost of a smiles appears on Pete’s lips. “Love you,” he echoes.

Patrick examines Pete’s red ass, which is now starting to show the outline of the paddle in various spots, along with faint purple marks. He takes a slow, even breath. He knew what to expect, but it’s hard to believe he did this to Pete, even though Pete wanted it. He gently cups his hand over one cheek. It’s still hot, but not as hot as it was. “How does this feel, baby?” he asks.

“Burns,” Pete replies softly. “Fucking me…hurt...really good....”

“Does it hurt now?” Patrick asks. He starts pulling at the waistband of the panties, nudging at Pete to raise up enough to get them pulled down over his cock so Patrick can work them down his thighs.

“Yeah…” Pete replies dreamily, sounding like he’s not bothered in the slightest.

Patrick pulls the come-soaked panties all the way over Pete’s ankles, tossing them carelessly to the floor. “I’m going to get you cleaned up and put some lotion on you, okay?”

“Mmm,” is all Pete says, sounding agreeable. He must really be out of it, if he’s not clinging to Patrick and asking him to come back right away.

Patrick comes back quickly anyway, with a wet washcloth he’s made sure isn’t too warm, and a bottle of thick vitamin E lotion. He kisses Pete’s forehead to let him know he’s back and nudges Pete’s legs gently apart, gasping when he sees his come trickling out of Pete’s ass, because the pearly white liquid contrasting with the reddened skin is possibly one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. After a moment he reluctantly wipes it away, and tries to get under Pete to wipe as much of Pete’s own come off of him as he can, but Pete isn’t willing to move much and doesn’t seem all that concerned with cleanup. Patrick then applies lotion generously to his hands, and starts carefully rubbing it into Pete’s tender skin. Pete groans a little, but it actually sounds like his groans have an edge of pleasure to them, so Patrick feels comfortable ensuring all the paddled areas get massaged.

“Can you drink some water, baby?” Patrick asks when he’s done. Pete makes a noncommittal noise. Patrick debates with himself whether it’s worth rousing Pete and trying to force water down his throat before deciding that Pete isn’t in danger of dehydration and letting it go.

Satisfied that Pete has been taken care of to the best of his abilities, Patrick turns off the light and crawls into bed next to him, laying on his side facing Pete and pulling the blanket over them both. Pete responds to Patrick’s presence against him like a magnet, creeping toward him and burrowing his face into his chest. Patrick places an arm over Pete’s back and twists the other one around to stroke his head until the angle gets too uncomfortable. He places a soft kiss on his forehead and arranges his face so that Pete’s coarse hair isn’t tickling his nose, and follows Pete into an easy, deep sleep.

When he wakes up the next day, the first sight he sees is a fully naked Pete, facing him and looking into a handheld mirror he’s holding up in order to look at his back in the full-length mirror in the corner of their room, an astonished expression on his face.

“Are you okay?” Patrick croaks, struggling to sit up.

Pete jumps and moves away from the mirror. “Don’t freak out,” he says quickly.

Patrick fumbles for his glasses. “Is it bad?” he asks worriedly.

Pete shakes his head and smiles. “It’s really good. I love it.”

Patrick scrubs his eyes under his glasses and straightens up. “Let’s see it.”

Pete tentatively walks closer to Patrick but just stands there facing him. Patrick raises his eyebrows at him and makes a “turn around” gesture with his finger. Pete slowly turns around and Patrick gasps. The redness is mostly gone from Pete’s skin, but mottled purple bruises have started to form, many in the obvious shape of the paddle. Patrick can tell they’re going to look a lot worse as the day progresses.

“Do they hurt?” Patrick asks, reaching out to gingerly touch Pete’s skin with his finger. He can hear the slight catch of Pete’s breath.

“Well, yeah,” Pete replies dismissively, spinning around and cupping Patrick’s face in his hands, looking straight into his eyes. “But in the best possible way.”

Patrick scans Pete’s face, looking for a sign that Pete is at all distressed by the fact that he has bruises all over his ass that he caused, but Pete looks nothing but pleased. “Don’t be upset,” Pete says firmly, giving Patrick a sweet kiss. “I’m going to think of you every time I sit down for like the next _week_. It’s exactly what I wanted.”

Patrick stares into Pete’s eyes for another moment, satisfied with what he finds there. “Okay,” he says simply. Pete fought hard for those bruises, Patrick decides. He earned them.

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as my desire to write a simple short fic that featured Patrick spanking Pete while Pete was wearing panties, and it grew into this monstrosity. If you took the time to read this, please leave me some love! You can also find me on [tumblr](coastingon-potential.tumblr.com)


End file.
